Finding a Cure
by Mr. Monocle
Summary: Lavellan is having a lovers quarrel with Cullen, so she seeks solace in the quiet Leliana who recalls her romance with the Hero of Fereldan. Twoshot.
1. chapter 1

Ellia's soft soled shoes pattered quietly against the soft grass. Wiping angry tears off her puffy cheeks, she plopped down on the stone bench, looking down at her feet which were toeing the grass. Soft footsteps caught her attention, making her look up as Leliana sat down beside her. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Ellia's sniffling finally dying down.

"Inquisitor, what has you so upset?" Leliana's soft voice soothed the young elf, and she sighed.

"You know I told you to call me by my name, Lil'."

Leliana smiled gently, awaiting the young elfs answer. Ellia's shoulders slumped.

"Cullen and I... had an argument, of sorts. He is upset with me for taking sides with mages. I just don't understand, I am a mage, yet he acts so disgusted when involving other mages." Ellia sighed, her frail shoulders slumping and her voice growing quiet. "He says he doesn't care about my magic, that he loves me no matter what. But how could he love me when I am the one thing he disgusts the most?"

Leliana put a soothing hand on the distraught elfs shoulder. They sat in companionable silence, Ellia resting her head on the Spymasters shoulder.

"Leliana, may I ask you something personal?" at Leliana's affirmative hum, Ellia continued. "Have you ever had someone you loved, who was so different from yourself?"

Leliana was silent and still. After a long silence, Ellia swallowed thickly, fearing she offended the older woman.

"Yes... Infact, you remind me of her, in a way. She was a dalish elf, lean and tall. Much taller than you would expect of an elf woman. When I first met her, we were fighting against mercenaries in a tavern. She was going to kill them, but for some reason she listened to me to let them live. She thought I was a crazy chantry sister, when we first met."

Ellia jerked away in shock, looking intently at the older woman in awe.

"You were a chantry sister?" Leliana nodded, signing for her to be quiet.

"Yes. Infact, I met her the day I left the Lothering chantry. Somehow, I persuaded her to let me join her and her other companions on their quest. She was mysterious to me, always so quiet, but yet fiercely protective of those she cared about." The redhead smiled fondly, lost in thought. "She rarely spoke. But when we watched camp at night, she showed me her true feelings and even her fears. I never once saw her without a sword at her side, which I think attracted me. She had people falling at her feet, swooning and admiring her. But she never paid them any attention. She was always looking at me, in a strange, knowing way. I had never thought she was interested in me, until the night she kissed me." Leliana's face glowed pink at the memory, wistfulness and longing clouding her eyes. Ellia cooed quietly at the usually stoic woman.

"It was such a pleasant surprise. I had always thought she and our other companion, Alistair, had a romance already. The day after that night, everyone had a knowing smile on their face. Well, everyone except Morrigan, of course."

Ellia observed the woman, noticing the faraway look in her eyes.

"You speak as if she is no more. Is she..?" Leliana bit her lip, eyes misty and whispered;

"She's far away from me. Finding a cure."


	2. 2

Her hair whipped behind her, still shimmering silver and long, what was left of it, anyway. Half of it had to be shaved off, so she could wrap the right half of her face, which was too grizzly to expose. The hair left on her scalp was thinning, no longer its former glory she took pride in.

Her left arm was naught but a stub, ending just a few inches below her shoulder. Her sword arm was on the same path, currently wrapped in soiled bandages to slow down the infection. Her once graceful saunter was now marred by a permanent limp.

Her body was decaying, and she was dying.

Flames crackeled behind her, the staunch scent of darkspawn and corpses permeating the air, not that she had the ability to smell anymore. Her longsword dragged behind her noisily. Slowly limping her way into the darkness, she clutched a small vial between her teeth. with only one hand, and it being occupied with a sword, she had to get creative. Her destination slowly came into view, blurred along with everything else her failing eye could see.

She recalled clearly the campsite, looming pillars, high structured stone walls, and a sense of depression and home weighing heavily in her conscience. Crossing the dilapidated bridge, she turned her head towards the ashy remains of the pyre. Tears fell from her eye at the memory of the contents of the ashes. After a salute to the pyre, she entered the ripped up tent towards the entrance to the forest. In it lay her best friend, once a glorious beast, he now lay still on his side. Dropping to her knees beside the now cold loyal beast, she gathered his hulking form into her arm against her chest and leant against the wooden chest nestled in the corner of the tent.

She tucked the precious vial into her shirt with a grim sense of bittersweet pride. She had found it. Ten long years of solitude and death had finally paid off. The numbness of death weighed her eyelid closed, and she welcomed the sweet embrace it offered. With her last breath, she whispered her lovers name, a smile on her lips.


End file.
